


A Vision of Perfection

by MercuryGray



Category: Band of Brothers, Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate History, Early Mornings, F/M, Reader-Insert, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryGray/pseuds/MercuryGray
Summary: Vogue would show girls on the Riveria and the Cote d’Azur lounging on the beaches in the latest two-piece in some stunning, sunny pattern, but the standard issue Army swimsuit, like all its PT gear, was navy blue, one piece, and incredibly un-fun.At Zell, there are early morning swims. and the appreciation of a fine female form. Reader self-insert.
Relationships: Richard Winters/Reader
Kudos: 19





	A Vision of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [junojelli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junojelli/pseuds/junojelli). Log in to view. 



It was not a fashionable swimsuit.

Vogue would show girls on the Riveria and the Cote d’Azur lounging on the beaches in the latest two- piece in some stunning, sunny pattern, but the standard issue Army swimsuit, like all its PT gear, was navy blue, one piece, and incredibly un-fun.

The fashionable nature of the thing wasn’t really of interest to you - three years wearing olive drab had made such points moot - but there was something about putting on clothes, looking in a mirror, and liking what you saw - and this was the most of your skin anyone would have seen out in public in a long time. No one could hide scars in a swimsuit - the hole in your calf, now puckered closed and white, the small collection of scar tissue along your arm where a group of fragments had decided to throw a party. The men could all joke about their scars, but a woman’s were...different.

Dick had wanted to go swimming this morning, and you’d promised you’d oblige, but that was before you’d put the swimsuit on and examined the effect in the mirror. _Well, my legs look pretty good, anyway. Three years of running around Europe’s been good for something._

The morning was warm, and there seemed little reason for a coat. Grabbing a towel, a short walk down to the lake and its dock found Dick waiting with, of all people, Harry, who was either up incredibly early, or going to bed incredibly late, a half-finished glass of something slowly beading moisture onto the tabletop beside him.

“I was wondering how the hell you were going to get Lew up this early for PT,” Harry commented with a smile, sitting up a little in his deckchair. “When he said he was waiting for someone I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting _you_. Don’t go easy on him, Lieutenant. He needs a firm hand - been out to pasture far too long.”

It was laughable, looking at the long leanness of him, that anyone would say that Dick Winters had, at any point in his _life_ , been _out to pasture_ , but Dick’s little blush at the mention of _a firm hand_ was nearly worth the price of admission, the subtle creep of color among his freckles as he squinted in the morning sun and tried not to look like Harry’s comment had unnerved him, as though there had not been plenty of firm hands and, well, firm lots of things the night before. Dick’s commitment to his privacy was really quite endearing - if only because it made all the things he actually did in private just that much more intense.

“Your ass looks great in that swimsuit, by the way,” Harry added, taking a sip of his drink and looking pleased with himself.

“If you wouldn’t say it to me, Harry,” Winters began, a little testily. You could practically feel the protective energy radiating off him - not an uncommon thing, but still something that brought a little thrill every time it came out.

“And your ass looks great as well, Dick,” Harry added without missing a beat, a huge grin on his face. “Would absolutely tap that, if, y’know, I was into gingers.”

Ignoring Harry’s antics and Dick’s rising annoyance, you rolled your eyes and said, before either could get a word in edgewise, “Thanks, Harry, I’ll tell Kitty you said so.”

“Please do,” Harry invited, leaning back in his deckchair to enjoy the sunshine. “Maybe she’d start sending me more interesting letters - or a new photo...” 

“Ignore him,” Dick murmured, picking up the two towels he’d brought from the officer’s quarters (real towels, big white plushy numbers that were no match for the tiny G.I. green thing you’d been using for years) and making his way down to the end of the dock.

You followed a few steps, stopped and looked him square in the eye, hands on hips. “What, are you saying my ass doesn’t look great?”

The question did not need to be asked - you already knew his answer, as it seemed to be one of his favorite features of yours. But sometimes it was fun to needle him like this, pushing him to do or say things outside his usual range. He was not, by nature, a demonstrative man, preferring to express admiration (or censure) quietly and privately, and (particularly on this, the matter of his girlfriend’s appearance) where it could be subject to public commentary.

He pursed his lips, that determined, annoyed look that he often assumed when he was trying to master his patience, torn between what good manners and desire both asked of him. He cleared his throat, considering his options, and took a few steps to close the space between you. “It is -” and here he casually wrapped his hands over the offending bodypart, drawing you in close, his voice a murmur from deeper in his chest than was usual, “a vision of perfection.”

You stood up on tiptoe to kiss his nose and smiled, suspicions confirmed. “Thank you.”

“GET A ROOM, YOU TWO,” Harry hollered from the shore, now just enjoying being a nuisance - sadly, something that looked to become a permanent condition here in peacetime. “Jesus, out here in _publi_ c being _obscene.._.”

Dick looked ready to hit something, by the state of the vein in his neck, but you had this well in hand, turning away from him ever so slightly and with absolutely no pretensions to being ladylike, to shout “TAKE A HIKE, HARRY.” The lieutenant waved an arm as if to bat the suggestion away, groped for his drink, and settled back in his chair to consume it, eyes closed, his smile as wide as a cat that has just gotten into cream, doubtless now imagining Kitty at some poolside cabana looking lovely. 

You turned back to Dick, and smiled. Harry was being a loveable ass, Dick was protective and in love with you and did not really give a damn about the swimsuit, only the woman in it, and the sun was shining, and for today, there was no war. All was right in the world. “So, are we still going for that swim, or no?”


End file.
